Street Lights
by themarchgirl
Summary: Freddie is heartbroken when Sam leaves him, but the return of an old flame just might fix that. Two-shot, very angsty, rating may go up. Carly/Freddie
1. Freddie

I watch her car drive away into the night, frozen on the pavement. I don't care that it's snowing and it's fucking freezing and I'm going to catch a cold at Christmas. I just know that the best thing that has ever happened to me is gone – for good.

A car horn sounds suddenly, loud and inexplicably out of place in the silent, cold Kennedy Square. I jump and turn to see a familiar dark blue VW pull up next to me, the window sliding down. I blink in confusion because I can't recall who this car belongs to.

But I do when a rather pretty head of dark hair pops out and smiles at me.

"Hi, Freddie."

I've gone back into my previous stationary mode. There's no way, no _flipping_ way that Carly Shay could be here, in Seattle, in her blue car, with that same impossibly beautiful smile on her face that still makes me stop and stare.

"Carly? What the hell are you doing here?" I ask, finally coming out of my funk and frowning at her. Her smile falters a little.

"Well, I quit," she replies simply.

"You _quit_? College?"

She nods. "I can't do it anymore. I miss you, and Spencer, and Sam, sometimes – hey, are you OK?"

She is right in asking because all of a sudden it finally hits me that Sam is gone.

The tears start to slide down my face, and I'm gasping for air. Oh God, I _can't breathe_.

I vaguely hear her turn off the engine and open the car door. A hand touches my shoulder, careful and warm.

"Did she leave?" she inquires softly, her other hand wiping some of my tears. At my nod she pulls me back towards the apartment building, locking the car with a click of a button. The pain is building in my chest and I'm still sobbing like a child.

I loved her. _I love _her.

_Sam..._

I'm sitting now, on one of those uncomfortable benches next to the door in the lobby, my head in my hands and Carly's soft, gentle arms around me in an embrace I wouldn't have expected from her just after a separation of three years. Her head rests on my shoulder as I cry and cry until there are no more tears but my torso is still shuddering with grief.

I shift a little, removing my hands and wiping them on my jeans. Carly loosens her grip; she feels for my hand and squeezes it once before letting it go.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" We both ask at the same time, looking at each other. We don't smile because it's a good question.

Why isn't she mad at me?

"I _left_. And I insulted your girlfriend," Carly murmurs.

"I didn't respond to any of your emails," I reply. "If it was you on the end of the phone I hung up."

Carly shrugs. "I could understand that you were mad. It was frustrating at times, but I had Spencer to talk to. And he sort of told me about, um, you and Sam. I didn't guess it. I lied to you, in that email," she whispers.

"I don't mind. We've lied to each other, in the past," I say, picking at the frayed material on the bench. Carly's mouth turns up on one side in a wry smile.

A silence covers us until it's too loud and blocks my ears and it makes my heart hurt because I start to see Sam's face behind my eyelids. I can feel my body trembling again, more violently than before.

Carly pulls me up and mutters something about staying the night. She begins to tug me in the direction of the elevator; the distraction helps and I calm down a little.

When we reach the 8th floor she plucks my keys from my pocket and unlocks the door. The familiarity of her movement is strange and I almost feel like I could wake up from this awful dream and Sam would be sleeping next to me, her head on my chest and her breathing slow and comforting.

We wander in, me shutting the door and flicking the light switch. We sit down at the table, our bodies heavy and tired. Suddenly her head shoots up and she curses softly.

"What?"

"I left my bags in the car. Will you be OK here for a sec while I get them?" Her hand finds my shoulder and squeezes when I nod uneasily.

As I hear the door open and close I sort of shuffle over to the couch and slump on it, my face pressed into a cushion. Before I have any control the fabric is wet and for some reason the couch is shaking – until I realise that I'm crying again. Before this I'd had no idea that Sam could break me like this – yeah, we fought, but it was over stupid stuff that didn't matter and we always made up.

This time was different.

She said she was tired.

I tried so hard with her – I love her. I can't bear to be without her.

What did I do? I'm so confused and my head hurts and I feel like I've been punched in the stomach. I looked after her, I made her laugh, I told her I loved her, I held her when she cried, I did everything she asked within reason, and I always forgave her.

God, somebody help me, _please_.

Carly comes back after about fifteen minutes, dragging her old purple suitcase and her grubby white backpack slung over her shoulder. She notices me on the couch and drops her stuff.

"Oh, Freddie, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry," she mumbles, rearranging me so that I'm leaning on her shoulder and her arms are wrapped around my middle and she just lets me cry into her hoody.

Somewhere in the next hazy minutes I recall, randomly, that we used to hug like this. She used to fly at me and clutch me round the middle and squeeze, and I'd put my arms around her shoulders and rest them on her back and it was really easy, and once we slept like that.

"I'm sorry, I keep crying on you," I say, sitting up and pulling a hand across my eyes. She shakes her head.

"Hey, what are best friends for?" She smiles, pretty and bright, and I wonder if I've found something to hold on to.

She insists on taking the couch, even though I try and convince her to sleep in my bed. Eventually we decide that I'll take the floor next to the couch, and in that way if I get upset she's right there.

I feel like an invalid.

I hate it.

It's almost 1am when I finally fall asleep, and even then Sam's face burns holes in my vision and in my dream I'm calling out to her but she keeps running away.

I wake up with tears on my face and I'm too tired to wipe them away. Carly is making coffee in the kitchen and I can smell scrambled eggs and bacon. I sit up blearily, combing my hair with my fingers and scratching an itch. She waves at me from the kitchen and holds up the cup she's drinking from. I shake my head.

Blinking the gunk out of my eyes, I wince as the movement hurts my head. I groan quietly and make to stand up, yawning.

"I'm going to take a shower," I tell her, glancing in her direction only once to see her nod and turn back to the oven.

The shower wakes me up a little but even when I'm clean and dressed, I cannot taste the food Carly sets in front of me. I take our plates to the dishwasher in silence, feeling her eyes on my back.

I stack everything away to be washed and just as I'm lifting up the door of the dishwasher I sense her behind me.

"I called Sam last night."

I spin around quickly, staring at her.

"You did what?"

"I called her. To ask her what the hell her problem is," Carly replies stiffly.

"Why would you...Carly, I can handle this," I plead feebly. Carly shakes her head.

"Freddie, you were saying her name in your sleep. You cried basically all of last night." Carly pulls me in for a brief hug. "I couldn't bear to see you like that. So I took your phone and I called her."

I swallow. "What did she say?"

"She sounded...I don't know...tired. And she said she couldn't _be_ with you anymore because of something that happened a long time ago," she explains tentatively. "And then we had a huge fight because I told her how depressed you were and she said you had to deal with it and she said to..."

She breaks off and bites her lip.

"She said to what?" I ask, my voice croaky. Her eyes close and she turns away.

"She said to tell you that she wasn't coming back."

My knees give out and my hands come away from her waist. I briefly wonder how long they've been there until my back hits the counter and I'm sobbing into my hands again.

Her arms are around me in two seconds. I clutch at her t-shirt and she hushes me softly, rocking me like a baby.

"I love her," I try and say through my tears. "Carly, Carly, I miss her."

She's nodding, and pressing her face into my neck, and my cheeks are so wet. Then she's kissing away all my tears, and I think she must have found one on my mouth because suddenly I'm kissing her desperately, needing her love like I need oxygen to breathe.

We're on the floor and my shirt is gone and her skin is so warm and somewhere in this hapless, impromptu rendezvous I think I hear her say she loves me.


	2. Carly

"What just _happened_?"

Through my still-erratic breathing I answer him. "I think we just had sex."

I'm trying not to look at him because if I do I'll fall apart.

"Oh," he replies, and I hear him shifting a little next to me. "This floor is really cold."

I nod, but I couldn't care less. I sit up, avoiding his gaze, and pick up my clothes.

"Carly? What's the matter?"

Damn his perceptiveness.

"Nothing; I'm fine."

I'm so in tune to him, even after all these years, that I can sense him raising an eyebrow.

"You're upset," he says.

"So are you. What, you can be upset and I can't? We can't be upset in the same way?"

My eyes widen. Oh, holy crap.

"You're not serious. Tell me you're not serious."

Tears start to pool in my eyes, and I hurry into his bathroom. He follows me and I slam the door in his face.

"Carly, please, talk to me," he begs through the door. "I'm sorry, OK? I can't really remember how we started kissing or anything. I just...."

He trails off.

"I feel stupid," I say to the door, through blurred vision. "I can't believe that I thought it would mean something to you."

There is silence, and then he's angry.

"What the hell? Carly, you had sex with me. Even though I'm still hung up on Sam and you knew that. You knew I needed comfort and you gave it to me. All forms of it. That means a lot to me."

"That's not what I mean! You kissed me back! You _kissed me back_..."

I've sunk to the floor, my head in my hands. There is a thump near my level and I think he's done the same thing.

"Carly, I – I'm sorry," he whispers. "Please, please don't cry, it kills me when you cry..."

"What do you expect?" I answer harshly. "This is so screwed up."

"Her hair changed colour," he blurts randomly.

"What?"

"Sam's hair went brown when I thought about her."

"Oh."

"It was weird."

"Thanks."

"No, no, not the sex, that was amazing, I mean that I should be thinking about Sam, but I was thinking about you."

"You do know," I tell him, "That it's wrong to think about somebody else whilst having sex."

"I'm trying to make you feel better," he whines.

I bite back a grin.

"Carly?"

I make a non-committal noise and wipe my eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot," he murmurs. "I really messed this whole thing up. Now you're going to leave me, just like Sam."

I can hear his voice thickening and I pull my underwear on and tug my shirt over my head. I open the door and he falls back into my lap.

"Wow, that was co-ordinated," I mutter as tears slip out from under his eyes once more. I ignore the fact that he's naked and _try_ not to notice how toned his chest is and stroke his hair.

"I'm not going to leave you," I promise. "Even though it hurts, I won't."

He curls up by my legs and, silently, his tears drip onto my skin.

Later, we get up and dress properly and I visit Spencer. My brother squeals in a not-quite-so-manly way and jigs about for five minutes when he opens the door to see me.

We're sitting and drinking iced tea when he says the worst thing.

"You had sex today."

He's grinning at me and I am suddenly reminded of finding some scarring pictures of him in a box.

I bite my lip. He lets out a shout of laughter and hugs me.

"I'm not really happy with that," he admits when he pulls back. "But you're going to make him feel better, I promise."

"How did you know?"

"Well, considering my past history, I know what a girl looks like after sleeping with someone. And you look like that."

He shrugs, and I'm so glad to see my older brother.

I come back to find that Freddie has found an old photo of him and Sam and he's not taking it well.

As I hold him gently for the tenth time, I compare him to a lost ship – abandoned by its crew and being tossed about by huge waves and the wind.

I let a couple of my own tears fall into his hair when he cries himself to sleep, because it hurts, really hurts, to see him so sad and broken like this.

And I love him.

I love his brown eyes, his dark hair and his way of charming girls with his sweetness. I love how he treats girls like gemstones, and he loves his mom, and he's grateful for everything.

And I miss his love-poem, fierce, endearing crush on me that burn out with a bang when I left and made me feel beautiful and special.

I fall asleep on the couch, too, and when I wake up our positions are reversed. I'm tucked in his embrace, nestling into his chest. His head rests near mine and his breath fans out on my shoulder. I breathe in his scent and close my eyes again.

I don't ever want to move.

I love him.

In his sleep he mumbles my name. I press my hand to his chest and feel his heartbeat – strong, steady. With that wonderful mantra playing, I am lulled back to sleep.

I wake again to his voice.

"Carly," he whispers. "Carly, wake up."

I don't want to wake up, or move.

I blearily open my eyes and scowl at him. He smirks at my expression.

"What's up?" I ask, yawning.

"I just – I – I'm not sure," he stammers, suddenly nervous. "I mean, you're going to – oh man."

Why is he staring at my legs?

Freddie's face is suddenly very close to mine, and his gaze flickers to my mouth. I inhale sharply, but I can't look away.

"How long has it been since I told you," he asks, "that you're beautiful?"

"Don't," I plead. "I'm not. You love Sam."

"You are. You've always been beautiful," he murmurs nonchalantly, pushing my hair off my face. "And I don't know if I do."

My head is spinning. This cannot be happening, he loves her, and last night he was sobbing into my neck because of her-

_He smells like clean clothes and honey. I can't see anything else but him. What is he doing to me?_

"I never forgot you," he breathes against my mouth. "You're still there, in a box I locked away."

My heart is beating so fast and his eyes are so deep and I swear he's going to kill me.

"And I just opened it," he says, before his mouth collides with mine.

Something huge explodes inside me, and I'm clutching at him. His lips are so soft and warm. I can't feel my legs...

He's pushing me down into the couch. His tongue is doing incredible things, and I've already half-tugged his shirt off and my zipper is down.

My body lights up under his touch, and when he finally, _finally_ slides into me, it's even better than yesterday.

"Oh, Freddie," I breathe, my back arching. "What are you doing to me?"

He groans into my skin, our hips moving in this beautiful, terrifying dance. "I could ask you the same question," he replies, his sweat trickling down his forehead.

I kiss the droplet away, and slide my lips over his jaw and down his neck and across his chest. He moans in my ear just before he takes the earlobe between his teeth.

The familiar sensation starts to build, and a little cry escapes me as he hits something inside me. He captures my mouth again and stifles his groans in feverish kisses.

"Carly," he chokes. "I'm so close."

"M-me too," I gasp, my breath hitching in my throat. "Freddie – Freddie, _I love you_-"

And I'm tumbling over the edge, our gazes locked. His eyes widen and his deep, deep groan indicates his release. I make a sort of whimpering mew sound and my head falls back, hair splayed over my sweaty back.

My ability to breathe returns five seconds later. We stare at each other until he traces my cheek with his finger and kisses me gently.

"I love you, too," he replies huskily when he draws back. "And that was incredible."

"Yeah, it was," I agree quietly. I sling my arms around his neck and we grin at each other.

"Is it weird to fall in love with someone just two days after your girlfriend left you?" He inquires.

I shrug. "Do you care?"

His answering kiss is enough to give me his answer.


End file.
